Tag: death

Mantas: A Love Story (c) Marika Reinke 2015

Working with Color & Life

This commission is taking me a long time to finish.  I make three decisions  and then I’m exhausted, and the paint needs to dry.  I walk away.

As I work, I think about my client.  She has an irreversible and deadly disease.  This painting is for her life partner as a parting gift, in memory of their life together.  Their best memories are in the water, the mantas are metaphors and symbols.

Thrilling, intimate, scary, flowing, connecting …. fill in the rest here.

We all know life is finite.  But it is another thing to know death is looming. It is another thing to be touched intimately by it and be asked to partake in the goodbyes.

I love her (my client). Every decision is a worth a million more than the thought that goes into it. I want to have all the time in the world to finish this painting.  I want anything to slow down goodbyes.  I never want this painting done so she can never give it to him. So she will never die.

So I slow down. And reflect on color and life.

The Birth story: color and life

Of the images she gave me, there were sea turtles, mantas, sea life, water, underwater corral.  Of the words she gave me, mantas, moving together, light and colors, love and the stories she has shared with me about them.

This image burned for me.  This is sketched and painted on 9 x 12″.

just mantas number 1

Which eventually led to a rough idea and agreement.

Suzy-editted-embrace

I changed the mantas as little as I worked on the larger image which is  about 26″ x 26″.  They are purple; regal and spiritual.  They come together in a more fluid shape.  They merge so one is undecipherable from the other.  The energize each other at the connection point.

just mantas

And then I add background color.  I also altered the color scheme a little, adding deeper blues and  simplifying.  The challenge is to keep the eye on the mantas while creating motion, energy, support and a story with color.  A vivid purple draws the eye in just the right places, there should be color and contrast where meaning occurs.

mantas with color

The aquamarine frames the mantas.  Dark colors keep the eye inward.  The yellow draws the eyes to it and the mantas.  Purple and yellow are complimentary colors, they glow next to each other.

mantas with background

Now I’m happy with the basic composition which is different than the first sketch.  I took what worked from it and added and subtracted.  Then, I return to the blues and yellows, softening, shading, darkening and adding depth.

more background

This week, I came back to the mantas with more layers of colors and shading.  The rewards for patience pay back huge in vibrancy and motion. The mantas are deeper purple now, the result is higher contrast which builds more energy and richness to the painting.

What is left?

I need to keep working the shading in the two mantas, their upper bodies are still a bit ill-defined and the background colors still need a few more layers for richness and just the right frame.

Mantas: A Love Story (c) Marika Reinke 2015
Mantas: A Love Story (c) Marika Reinke 2015 #WIP

She loves it.  Believe me, she would tell me if she didn’t. I’m relieved and joyful. This project aches, but I’m so pleased that this painting is doing what she wants and needs it to do.

I could work on this forever.

She might have to tell me when to stop.

A Dead Plant is a Reminder

Today, I found my almost-6-year-old son on this ledge worriedly kneeling over a plant.  He turned to me and pointed at it.

“What happened?” He asked.

IMG_0413

“It’s dead. Daddy killed it.”  I said.   I’m sorry Dad. It was a flippant response.  Dad  has an amazing green thumb. This spot has been a difficult gardening space and the plant has been dead for 6 months easily, probably longer.

I did not expect my son’s response.

Daire choked up and fought his tears from spilling over.  He wiped them away, trying not to let me see.

He has teared up like this before.  Recently, I described Mt St Helens eruption.  We watched a short video and his tears let loose as he learned 57 people died, all the animals gone and the trees completely blasted down. The story hurt him the way it hurt the earth.

It concerns me that he doesn’t want me to see the tears.  I gave him a kiss and told him that I loved how much he cares.  He leaned over and hugged me, a wonderful vulnerable moment shared openly.

“Do you know what happens when we die?”  I asked.

He shook his head.

“We become a part of the world around us.  When I die I will become a part of you, and Dana and your favorite places on the earth.”

He nodded, thinking.

“I don’t think it happens that way.”  He said finally.

“What happens?”

“I think we get old and then we die, then we are born again.”  He nodded firmly, very confident.

“Yes. I believe that happens too. We become new beings.”  I paused.  “Is that sad or scary?”

He was still fighting his tears but he said “No.”  Nothing more.

But it is change. Monumental, unstoppable, life-altering change.

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Spare Change

Spare Change and Legacies

My father, who died 17 years ago, used to keep a 5 gallon water jug for spare change. It was a way of saving, a game and my confession: my brother and I used to “steal/borrow” from it as children.

Dad wanted to see if he could fill it up but he expected to live much longer than 49 years…so he didn’t. And our sneaking didn’t help his goal, the quarters disappeared fast.

After he died, my mom kept it and added a little to it over the years.

Today, she handed it over to our kids; a heavy bowlful of change that can’t be counted in one sitting. It is a gift from a ghost and from a time when having kids were little more than maybe a thought to the 23-year-old me.

My kids are through-the-roof excited.

Dad touches them, with a small habit, very tangibly right now like a small bit of time travel.  I’m happy he could give them something they feel at this age, a small brushing of souls.

He touches us in many unseen ways too.

And maybe he meant to save the money for them and maybe he didn’t. I don’t know.

But legacies play this way. We think we know what we leave behind, but we don’t. We just do our best and leave it for the people left behind to make meaning of it. The meaning making is our legacy.